


Intended

by ddagent



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Broken Engagement, Canon Rewrite, Childhood Sweethearts, Exes, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 07:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19718899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: Catelyn Stark could have sent anyone to escort Jaime Lannister to King's Landing. She chose his childhood friend, and former betrothed, Brienne of Tarth.





	Intended

**Author's Note:**

> So someone prompted 'childhood sweethearts' for my collection 'Lions and Sapphires'. I started brainstorming and I came up with this. Which then got longer and longer and I decided it really needed to be its own story. This is my second attempt after majorly rewriting the beginning and end last night, so I really hope it works. It's also another story in Jaime's POV...for some reason, I just feel comfortable living in his head. Mostly because I, too, go slack-jawed every time I see Gwendoline Christie. 
> 
> Happy reading!

_Intent_ was a curious thing. Jaime had not joined his father in Robert's rebellion with the intention of killing the King, but he did. He'd never intended to join the Kingsguard despite their illustrious status, yet he found himself forced to don the White. His sister _had_ intended to become Queen, whether it was as Robert ascended the throne, or shortly after his wife was found lying dead at the bottom of a tower in Winterfell. Robb Stark, the young wolf, intended to take Jaime's sister and her new-born son to task for murdering his father. His mother, Catelyn, intended for Jaime to return to King's Landing in exchange for her daughters.

It was his former intended that held his leash.

Brienne was tall; _taller,_ if that was at all possible. Her hair was cut short: it had clung to her neck in sweaty clumps as a child, and had fallen with little grace as she'd grown. _It suits her,_ Jaime thought, as strands of blonde hair fell across her face as Brienne strained with the effort of rowing them across the river. It was a heavy boat: he in chains, she in armour. Gone were soft tunics and worn breeches; wooden swords and sly daggers. Her eyes were still that glorious shade of blue that Jaime still woke up thinking about, even all these years later. Brienne looked at him like he was something she had scraped off the bottom of her boots.

A far cry from the last time they'd met, where they had said _fuck tradition_ and fallen into bed with one another.

 _This shouldn't be how we see each other again._ Not a brief glance in a muddy field, or a visit to his cell late at night. Not Brienne's firm hands dragging him from the boat and practically throwing him into the mud of the river bank. Jaime had thought often of their reunion in the years since they'd parted. Before Aerys it was flashes of them meeting on the docks at Tarth; Brienne's voice warm in his ear as she said _next time, you're not leaving me behind._ In the months and years since, he'd occupied himself with daydreams of Brienne visiting the capital; fantasies of Robert dismissing him from the Kingsguard so he could take his rightful place by her side.

Not him in chains. Not her in armour. Not a single word from her lips, as if they didn’t know one another.

It would be a long walk to King's Landing, and Jaime had no plans to suffer it in silence. He'd thought about Brienne every single day since their parting, and he _refused_ to be ignored like he was nothing more than a commoner heading to the dungeons for stealing a pig.

So he tried a trick that had worked when they were children, and he'd annoyed her into silence: he did it even more. "So, _Brienne of Tarth._ Do you ever think about the night we laid together?"

Her hand slammed between his shoulder blades, pushing him further onto the bank of the river. " _Walk._ "

One word; that was progress. "I bet you do. You used to think about me often enough. Late at night, hand between your legs. _Moaning my name._ " 

Another push forward. "You don't know what you're talking about." 

Jaime glanced over his shoulder. Under windswept blonde strands was a familiar ruddy complexion: he'd always used to enjoy making Brienne flush. A word in anger, or jest, or lust, and she'd be as red as his house colours. He smirked, knowing it wouldn't take much for her to start speaking to him again. "You must remember that my room was next to yours at Evenfall Hall. Your father wouldn't _dream_ of putting the heir to Casterly Rock anywhere else. No need to be ashamed, my lady: I thought about you, too."

He stopped dead in his tracks, forcing Brienne into his back. Her fingers dug into the blade of his shoulder, attempting to force him forward. He turned suddenly in her arms: if he leant up, he could claim her lips. Brienne stumbled back. " _Don't stop_."

"Now, where have I heard that before?" Despite the chains, the rags, and the grime coating his skin, Jaime smirked and offered his former betrothed a single wink. "I'd be more than happy to engage in a re-enactment, my lady, if you don't recall."

"If you think—"

Jaime didn't wait to hear her response; he began walking into the forest. Brienne stomped behind him; her boots squelching in the mud. His plan was working, as it often did. Her elbow nudged his. _Hello again._ "So, it's a long way to King's Landing. What _shall_ we talk about?"

"I have _nothing_ to say to you." Forehead knotting, Brienne wrinkled her nose and practically _spat_ in his direction. " _Kingslayer._ " 

"Kingslayer. _Kingslayer._ " Jaime tested the word on his tongue. He'd heard it from many others over the years, but not from her. It seemed to hurt more from her lips. Like _Ser Jaime_ had made him feel like Arthur Dayne. "It's rude, _Brienne,_ to call people names. You wouldn't like it if I called you _Brienne the Beauty,_ would you?"

A low blow. But a firm reminder that they knew each other well; too well for him to be a simple captive, and her his jailor. Brienne, however, refused to rise to his bait. "Words are wind, Kingslayer. Which is why I'm more than happy to walk all the way to your dear sister in _silence._ "

" _Fine._ Still as stubborn as ever, I see." Jaime stumbled over his own feet, buoyed by the weight of Brienne's hand along his spine. "I'll talk for the both of us, then. Tell me: have you been with anyone else?"

" _Piss off._ "

"I'll take that as a _no._ " He was chained, dehydrated, and hadn't slept lying down for over a year. But his spirits lifted at the knowledge that Brienne had only ever been with him. Her last kiss had been theirs; her last touch had been his. "I meant what I said to Lady Stark back at camp, by the way. I've only ever been with one woman."

"A _likely_ story."

"It's _true._ The Kingsguard has certain rules about that, you know. It's like the Night's Watch, with a better colour palette. As for _before_ …I had every intention of coming back after Robert's stupid rebellion and making you my wife. It's not my fault that I—"

"—that you, what?" Brienne stared; her blue eyes a summer storm. He was drowning in them, but she would not save him. Not this time. "It's not your fault that you killed the mad king? That Baratheon made you a member of his Kingsguard as a reward for your service?"

Jaime snorted. "A reward? _A punishment,_ more like _._ We helped him fight his _fucking_ war, and then he turned around and let us _choke._ "

Brienne didn't say another word; just pushed him through the undergrowth. He didn't say another, either. She wouldn't understand, not yet: she still thought of him as the reckless soldier who'd bedded her, ran away to war, killed the king, and had been rewarded with the highest honour a knight could ask for. But in his eyes, he had lost his betrothed, his home, and his family. He'd spent the last eighteen years disgraced, celibate, and dreaming of a life where he was Lord of Casterly Rock and he spent his days sparring with his wife. 

"Would you believe me if I said I'd missed you?"

"I don't believe a single word that comes out of your mouth."

Jaime was going to produce some pithy remark: something to make her squirm, something to get under her skin like her presence had done to him. But Brienne had stopped abruptly. Jaime did, too; his senses alert for signs of trouble. But then his focus shifted from _her_ to the path in front, and the three girls swinging from a nearby tree.

" _They lay with lions,"_ Jaime read. "You'd know what's that like, wouldn't you, Brienne?"

" _Shut up._ " Brienne's gaze was unflinching. "This isn't a _joke_."

"I apologise." She scoffed. " _I mean it._ But this is from your side of the battlefield, Brienne: these are the men you serve with; not mine."

"I serve Lady Catelyn, not the Starks." Brienne stared at him, chin slightly raised: as if she needed the extra height to look down upon him. "You may no longer have any honour, Jaime, but I do."

_Jaime. She called me Jaime._

His excitement was short lived, however, as he was quickly lashed to the nearest tree whilst Brienne attended to her charges. Her blade glinted in the air as it cut through rope: the scent of death and decay thick. Brienne buried them, whispering a prayer she had often said in the sept for her dear mother. Burying the dead, serving an honourable woman, on a quest to save two young maidens: Brienne had become the knight she'd always wanted to be, and the knight Jaime had always thought he would become.

"I intend to keep my oath to Lady Stark," he said, as Brienne reached forward to untie his bindings. She stole one look at him, before dropping his gaze to the floor. "I need you to know that, Brienne."

" _I_ intend to keep my oath. That'll have to be good enough for the both of us."

"You really think so little of me?"

"Have you given me a reason to think otherwise?"

He grew tired of this: she _knew_ him. Better than anyone. "There was once a time that I was brave and honourable in your eyes."

A faint smile crossed her face, before disappearing entirely. "We were young, and it was an endless summer, and you were… _everything_." His bindings fell away, and Brienne took a step back. "We're older, now. And winter is coming."

As if the woods could hear her words, a breeze ran along the path, lifting fallen leaves and twigs across their boots. The breeze came with voices: a conversation; Stark soldiers coming to admire their handiwork. Brienne froze. She was a natural with a sword; quite deadly with a bow. A surprising dancer and an awful seamstress. Lying was not one of her talents. There was a very good chance their quest to King's Landing would end before it had barely begun.

"Untie me." 

"Do you take me for an idiot?"

"You think I'd _hurt_ you? Untie me, _please._ "

Three shadows came into view. Brienne put a hand on the hilt of her sword. _She thinks I'd hurt her._ Anger rose in him. _Kingslayer, Oath breaker:_ these were what he had been reduced to in her eyes. He had never lost the love he'd felt for her. Brienne had clearly spent the years hating him. But then she reached for the key on her belt. "If you do anything—"

"I won't."

The chains chafing his wrists came loose. He shrugged off the links clinging to his waist. Brienne stared, _waiting._ He offered her a smile, and said: "Sorry about this."

Brienne grasped for her sword. Jaime stood on the tips of his toes and planted his mouth across hers. She gasped, and Jaime took the opportunity to slide his tongue past her lips. _This I've definitely missed._ Chapped lips; calloused fingers tugging at hair and collars. All tongue and teeth. Their first kiss had been similar: Jaime had won her name day tournament, but had been bed ridden for days with broken ribs. Brienne had snuck into his room to apologise; insistent that she, personally, up the purse he had won for his trouble. He had claimed her mouth as his reward.

Her teeth tugged at his bottom lip, now, drawing blood. Pulling back, Jaime brushed his thumb across the skin, his gaze never leaving hers. Up ahead, the soldiers had finally noticed them. "Hey, hey! What are you two doing here?"

"We're about to _fuck_ ," Jaime spat, his register low and rough. "She's got coin, I've got a cock. So, if you three cunts don't mind, I'd like to earn my _fucking_ silver."

The Stark soldiers descended into laughter. Jaime wasn't sure who they were laughing at: his former betrothed, who would make an _excellent_ knight, or a former member of the Kingsguard, who would make a very popular whore. The one in the centre, clearly the ringleader, shook his head. "Fuckin' hell. _You_ look like you're half dead. But then I can't imagine a soldier looking like you, _my lady,_ earning enough to pay a decent whore who'd fuck you."

Brienne's voice broke as she spoke, and Jaime wanted nothing more than to beat the three men senseless. "It's–I've–I've got to get back to the Stark camp before nightfall, but I need—"

"It's clear what you need, _my lady._ " The ringleader smirked. "Tell you what, we're camped near here if you want us to show you what _real_ men can do."

 _Like you'd be strong enough for her,_ Jaime thought, as the three men continued down to the river. One kept staring up into the trees, as if expecting three dead tavern girls swinging from a branch. Brienne noticed, too, and Jaime wondered if she would kill them for that. He certainly would, if he cared in that regard. He'd kill them for laughing at Brienne; had certainly struck men for less. But right now they just had to escape with their lives. One of them kept shooting glances at Jaime, as if trying to place him. But onwards they went, leaving the lady soldier and her whore.

"If I didn't need you alive, I'd kill you right now."

"No, you wouldn't. I think you're rather glad I'm here. I think you've rather missed me."

Her anger dissipated like a storm; suddenly all calm seas and soft eyes. "I miss the boy you were. _I loved him._ "

Jaime bowed his head. He loved the girl he remembered, but he would admit he knew so little of the woman standing before him. Like she knew so little of the man. "Maybe you can get to know me now. It's a long walk to King's Landing, Brienne."

"And then? What are your intentions _then_ , Jaime? You will be the Kingsguard to your nephew, and I will return to Lady Stark with her daughters. We're on two sides of a war. When we were children, we always fought _together_. We're not children anymore, Jaime."

Maybe not. But there was a long road between here and King's Landing, and there were many battles to face. One was just on the horizon. Out of the corner of his eye, Jaime noticed the Stark men were making their return; heads bowed in eager discussion. One had recognised him. He pointed in Jaime's direction, and the two others got a glint in their eye.

"You're Jaime _fucking_ Lannister!"

Jaime stared at Brienne. She stared back. Then she tilted her hip towards him, offering one of the swords from her belt. _We always fought together._ Brienne believed the stories about him; the oath breaking, king slaying knight who had ruined the maiden of Tarth. But she still offered him a sword; trusted him, even now. As the men pushed forward, Jaime felt a familiar tension in his bones. It had been a while since he'd fought; even longer since he'd sparred with Brienne. But he knew, somehow, that he'd remember the steps.

"I'll let you lead this dance, my lady."

The first man, the one that recognised him, was slammed into the tree line by Brienne. The second, the ringleader, got Jaime's borrowed sword against his belly. The third had just enough time to get his blade out, and match it to his. Brienne slit the throat of the first man; the spray staining the tree behind them. A second sword she carried was thrust into the third and final man's ribs when Jaime had him distracted. It had taken but a few moments, and they were safe again.

" _See_ ," Jaime said, breathing heavily. His body pulsed with excitement; the golden lion caged no more. "We still work well together."

" _Jaime."_

He groaned; pressing his teeth into the wound she had left on his bottom lip. The tips of her ears flushed pink. "I've always loved the way you say my name."

"I _will_ gag you!"

"Please don't." He tried to look serious. He _hoped_ he looked sincere. "Brienne, I've spent so many years thinking about you: what you were doing, who you were fighting, whether your father married you off to someone else. You were my brother-in-arms, my best friend… _my wife,_ in all things but name. Chain me, blindfold me, I don't _care._ Just… _talk to me._ Please."

Brienne considered his words. She offered a single nod. "Alright. But make no mistake: I fully intend to take you to King's Landing and hand you off to your family; we will _not_ be acquainting ourselves with any part of our former relationship. Clear?"

"Of course. I am your captive; you my captor. Nothing more." 

Intent was a curious thing. Brienne had every intention of keeping her oath to Catelyn Stark, and leaving King's Landing with her daughters in tow. Jaime had every intention of keeping the oath he'd given to Brienne half a lifetime ago. Whatever it took, she would be his intended once again.


End file.
